


you call, i respond

by sneakiest



Series: LDR [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Plug, Breeding Kink, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Phone Sex, a smidge of fluff, argument, but he's working through his stuff, dealing with the fallout of coming out to family, mark is johnny's Canadian Boyfriend, mark makes an offhand biphobic comment, mention of enemas, mentions of mark and Johnny with other people, mentions of unprotected sex, no actual penetration with a dick, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakiest/pseuds/sneakiest
Summary: In some ways, it's a strange experience to watch Mark. He's had Mark in a box of distance for so long that he thinks of Mark as a voice first, then maybe as his texting style, and then last as a face. As a body, moving through the world. Mark's sent him pictures (including one shy and too-dark dick pic that Johnny stared at for too long before replying) and they've FaceTimed, but even that was contained to Johnny's phone. Mark's a real person, vibrant and lovely.--Or: Mark is Johnny's Canadian Boyfriend, and it's their first night together.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: LDR [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850701
Comments: 70
Kudos: 600





	you call, i respond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cobalamincosel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a PWP treat for Mon, as well as a way to get over the writing hangover of my college AU JohnMark, and it still is, but it grew legs. And it's not, uh, strictly speaking, over. Look for a second installment at some point! Mon, I hope you enjoy. <3333
> 
> Don't mind me trying something a little out of my usual for the structure. I hope it works for everyone!
> 
> Thank you to Tay for the beta and her infinite patience with the words I make up and the amount of times I use "just."
> 
> Title from Lights' "Muscle Memory."

_THEN_

"You've been mentioning that Mark guy a lot lately," Jaehyun noted, both hands wrapped securely around his cappuccino. Their cafe, the place they'd been going together since Jaehyun moved into the neighborhood, was buzzing with lunch rush, but the table they always took was mercifully quiet compared to the rest of the shop. "Is he the Canadian?" 

"Yeah, he is. Sorry, dude, I didn't realize I kept bringing him up." 

Jaehyun's expression went beatific as he took his first sip. Foam lined his upper lip, and he swiped it quick with his tongue. For such a no-frills guy, he loved a treat. Johnny had gotten him away from those abysmal half-caf skim-milk sugar-free-syrup monstrosities and onto real coffee, at least. "Why apologize? He sounds nice. Let me know if you guys want to party chat sometime." 

"You want to hang with some random guy I know on Discord?" Johnny asked, incredulous. "I mean, I'm not gonna stop you, but that's pretty weird." 

"It's weird to have friends?" Jaehyun asked, smirking until his dimples popped. "Ah, news to me." 

"We're not... Yeah, okay, he's my friend, but not for real. Not like in real life." 

"You mention him a lot for him not being real," Jaehyun pointed out, still making fun of Johnny in his mild way. "My family's in Korea, do they not count—" 

"Dude, I take your point, but what are the odds of us hanging out in person? Ever?" He tsked and rattled the ice in his Americano. "Mark's cool, and if you want to run some PUBG with him, I'm sure we'd have fun, but odds are, in a year, I won't remember his name." 

Jaehyun's reaction was almost blank; the only sign of his thoughts was the careful squint he had as he regarded Johnny for a long, uncomfortable stretch. "If you say so," he said eventually, and sipped his cappuccino again before changing the subject. 

\--- 

_NOW_

"형," Mark says in a happy, almost bashful murmur into Johnny's ear. "Your friends are so nice!" 

As if on cue, Sehun and Taeyong return to their table with another round of drinks. This little _celebration_ is for Mark, finally flying to the U.S. from Canada. It's his first taste of the touristy shit in Chicago (including a deep-dish pizza, which Mark insisted he at least try despite Johnny's insistence there's better food in the city). In reality, it's Johnny's attempt at introducing the important people in his life—even if Mark is already Facebook friends with Taeyong and probably has Sehun's number for emergencies. 

It was also a wise choice to pick up Mark from the airport and head straight to dinner and drinks with the crew, because it means Johnny doesn't have to be alone with him yet. 

"Markie-Mark, do you like tequila?" Sehun asks, balancing the shot glass in his palm and holding it out for Mark to take. 

"Uh, I dunno," Mark says, and then giggles. He takes the shot from Sehun and peers at it. "I don't know if I've had it." 

Sehun gasps and plunks down in his seat next to Taeyong, who is already tipsy from pregaming Mark and Johnny's arrival and staring bleary-eyed into the middle distance. Johnny snorts under his breath and has another sip of his beer. He's not getting drunk because he has to drive and make good decisions, and he should cut Mark off too or risk him being too hungover to enjoy tomorrow, but the night is still very young. Mark can have fun, unwind from the plane. 

"Have you had a margarita?" 

"Is that what's in there?" Mark says, eyebrows going up. His face is in what seems like constant motion. It's not a surprise, since Johnny's FaceTimed with him, but it's remarkable to see up close and in person. His mouth parts; his eyebrows come down; and he shrugs and tosses the shot back, then puckers in consideration. "Oh, that's not too bad," he says. 

"You should eat more," Johnny says, nudging his own plate of picked-at salad toward Mark. He's less than interested in food right now, when Mark's right there, body canted toward Johnny's in his seat. His arm, in his soft black Henley, comes to rest on the table occasionally, fingers twitching and tapping. Johnny has to force himself to look away. "Otherwise I'll end up carrying you home." 

"I'm not a big drinker, don't worry," he says. "No carrying required, just appreciated." He manages to give Johnny a conspiratorial wink, then immediately seems to regret it, blushing red and averting his eyes. 

Johnny's grip tightens around his glass of beer. 

Being in public for hours is a good idea, he reminds himself. That way, there's less chance of things getting awkward or too intense. Mark can settle in, have some fun, and not think too hard about what the two of them are going to do once they're alone in Johnny's studio apartment. 

Taeyong comes back to earth long enough to distract everyone. "Mark-ya, Jaehyun always brags that he's the reason Johnny and you met. Is he serious?" 

Mark lights up, and he leans forward to be heard over the noise of the bar, the story at the ready. Johnny, bemused, sits back and watches him tell it. 

\--- 

_THEN_

Jaehyun's the reason Johnny ended up in that Discord server two years ago, that's true. But that's only half the story; it's Donghyuck's fault that Mark joined, terrible with technology and blasting his voice to the general room, stuttering, "Uh? Is—is Hyuck—is FullSun in here?" until Johnny took pity on him and sent him painstaking screencaps including but not exclusive to how to leave rooms, mute himself, and change his avatar. 

Somehow, they ended up talking whenever Mark remembered the server existed or when Donghyuck wanted to laugh at his Overwatch skills. They chatted for a month before Mark learned Johnny's name, another month before Mark found out Johnny was Korean, and it was a few more before Johnny even saw a picture of him, a cheesy selfie of Mark throwing up a peace sign. 

Over a blurry span of a year, he learned a lot about markymark99; Johnny cataloged his various laughs and the lulls in his speech while he collected his thoughts, how abysmally bad he was at gaming, his love of watermelon and music, and once, when Mark was audibly bummed out and it was two a.m. Chicago time to Mark's midnight in Vancouver, that Mark was probably queer and fucked up about it. Johnny did what any self-respecting pal would do: he talked to him until the sun rose, that deeply personal shit you can't unveil at any other time. 

And then, two months later, Mark was giggly and drunk after a birthday party, and he'd whispered it across their call, that he thought he was crushing on Johnny. 

"Oh, Mark," Johnny said with a manufactured laugh. His stomach sank, but he didn't want to make a big deal out of it, careful with Mark's emotions like a baby bird toppled out of the nest. "You know I'm straight." 

"Yeah," Mark sighed back. "I just thought maybe, you know, you said you experimented with guys." 

"Plenty of people experiment, bud. They're still what they say they are." 

"No, I know," Mark said in a rush. "And like, I don't expect you to like me back. I live in Canada, I know… I know it's not gonna happen. I just… It felt dishonest not to say anything?" 

Johnny closed his eyes with fondness and exasperation. Leave it to Mark to spill his fledgling crush because of his own sense of honor. "I'm flattered, Mark, I really am. But it’s not on the table. I'm dating someone now anyway," Johnny told him, and Mark perked up with the enthusiasm of someone faking it and asked about her, and that was it. The case was closed. Mark would get over his crush and find someone local and interested, and their friendship would taper off the way most of Johnny's online associations tended to. He's not really good at maintaining friendships that take so much work; it's a lot easier if he can see someone, grab coffee, whatever. Typically, if someone is out of reach for Johnny, it's hard for him to remember them. At some point, Mark would drift away. 

Except, weirdly, it hadn't gone that way. Johnny found himself thinking about Mark a lot, even on dates with Wendy, who suffered through a handful of meals where Johnny blanked out wondering what Mark was doing and picturing him in her place, and he had a private, internal crisis about what it meant. He broke up with her before he made it any worse, but he couldn't tell Mark. It was just a thing, a seed of an idea Mark had planted. Maybe the conclusion was that Johnny wasn't as straight as he thought, but Mark was right: he was in Canada. They didn't even know each other, not for real. 

Then Mark was late for their usual hang, calling Johnny while still taking off his shoes and jacket, keeping quiet to not wake his parents as he whispered, "Sorry, sorry, my date ran long and I had to bus from his place," and Johnny's heart took that like a beating. 

To his credit, it only took him another two weeks to figure his shit out and tell Mark, and they had phone sex that night, giddy and awkward and tripping around dirty talk neither of them was entirely comfortable with, but the moment he heard Mark moan his name, it was over for him. 

The logistics weren't cute. Sometimes it seemed pointless, since they were both relatively broke and in different countries, but they kept talking, flirting, occasionally succumbing to horniness and urging each other through jerking off. Eventually, Johnny told his friends and his mom that he was sort of seeing this guy from Canada, and then Mark's mom bought him a plane ticket as a college graduation present. 

\--- 

_NOW_

Taeyong tells Mark a long story about the first time Johnny DJ'd at a club and cried in the bathroom with nerves. Mark's heard it from Johnny himself but laughs along and pounds the table like it's brand new. The mention of clubs nudges Sehun into wanting to go dancing, and Johnny tries to shut the idea down, but Taeyong says he wants to see Mark dance, and Mark can't say no to Taeyong's pleading eyes any more than Johnny can. 

They agree on a club that isn't too sketchy. They're not far from a gay club Johnny knows about, and he considers it, but it makes him itch to think of going there. The expectation. And the way he'd feel like an outsider, even if he technically isn't. 

So Johnny's got some work to do, still, if he wants to be good to Mark. Not like he didn't know that already. He's not going to let that knowledge ruin his night, or the way Mark happily babbles at his side as they follow Sehun and Taeyong the several blocks to the club. 

"Ahhhh, Chicago is really cool," Mark says, stopping to peer into a shop window. 

"You've seen the freeway and this block so far," Johnny says. "Maybe reserve judgment for a little longer?" He tugs on Mark's arm, and Mark almost trips over himself. 

Johnny laughs maybe too hard. He's a beer and a half in, and his pulse is speeding with knowing Mark's sleeping in his bed tonight. That they have a week of firsts ahead of them. 

Sehun and Taeyong are waiting outside the club for them to catch up, though Taeyong knows the bouncers here, so they get inside with no issues and discounted cover. Mark flashes his passport as his ID, and Johnny snorts to see the picture—he's young in it, zitty and with bad hair, his painfully earnest smile stretching his face. 

"Show me your license picture right now," Mark complains when they're inside. "It's only fair!" 

"I'll show you," Johnny promises, his hand on the small of Mark's back on instinct, steering him to an empty table at the edge of the room. He's not a big dancer himself, content to throw some minimal moves when he's behind the decks, and when he's not working, this isn't necessarily his scene. But there's a new energy to it tonight, being with his friends and with Mark. He can feel Mark's muscles bunching and moving as he walks under his palm. "Later." 

"Uh-huh, I believe you." Mark sits, and Taeyong asks if he wants anything, but Mark shakes his head. "No, if I drink any more I'll fall asleep," even though EDM is vibrating the floor and Johnny's eardrums around them. 

Taeyong goes to collect more shots for himself, and probably a couple numbers while he's at it. Sehun hangs out until someone catches his eye, and then he's literally dancing away to get their attention. Johnny wishes Jaehyun, arguably his most normal-seeming friend, hadn't had to work. 

"We can leave whenever," Johnny tells him, wincing when the beat drops. "I know this is a lot for your first night here." 

"I'm having fun, but I'll let you know. I think Taeyong would be sad if we left before he saw me embarrass myself." 

"He keeps trying to teach me, but it hasn't stuck yet." 

"Because you're _stiff_ , Johnny Suh." Taeyong puts a water each in front of Johnny and Mark, tries to locate the straw for his drink with his mouth, misses, and tries again until he's gulped what looks like two-thirds of a cran-vodka. "You walk normally, but you try to dance and your hips get all weird." 

"Whatever you say," Johnny says. "Is it time for you to show off to Mark yet?" 

Taeyong shoots him a wounded look but holds his hand out for Mark. "May I have this dance?" 

"Just don't laugh at me," Mark says, and puts his hand in Taeyong's, letting himself be pulled to his feet. 

"I would never," Taeyong says solemnly, almost lost under the music and drunk, shouted conversations around them. 

\--- 

_THEN_

Mark spotted him while Johnny was buried in his phone, sending Mark yet another text to help him navigate O'Hare's terminals, and the sound of him calling Johnny's name seemed to reverberate through him. 

He wondered sometimes, guilty in the dead of night, if some of why he liked Mark was because he was distant, unobtainable. Outside of Johnny's regular life. That maybe they'd see each other in person and there wouldn't be a spark. Worst-case scenario, Johnny would realize Mark was another phase of experimentation, and that it wouldn't work once he got Mark's pants off. Or maybe they could have sex and it would be fine, good even, but then the flame of affection, of longing, in Johnny's chest would die out. 

But seeing Mark, somehow shorter than he'd expected and more beautiful, so angular, smile pushing up his cheeks and squinching his eyes, quelled all of that in an instant. His body felt heavy with want, with banked excitement. Wrapping his arms around him and smelling him, stale from hours on the plane even as he was, put the rest of the world somewhere else. He closed his eyes and squeezed Mark close, aware of none of it—not the bustling of people hurrying past them, the smell of exhaust and distant cigarette smoke from desperate smokers relieved to finally disembark, the whistleblowing from attendants trying to stop people from getting run over by cars eager to leave. Nothing mattered but Mark. 

Eventually, Mark peeled himself away from Johnny's chest. "Hi," he said shyly, and Johnny's heart thumped heavy, and it took all his self-restraint to stop himself from dipping in and taking their first kiss here. "You're so tall," he accused, and went onto his tiptoes in indignation. "Look at this!" 

"Hey, baby," Johnny said, smiling down fondly, and maybe some of Johnny's late-night worries were Mark's too, because he watched Mark visibly relax, his face softening and his cheeks flushing. "You ready to get out of here?" 

\--- 

_NOW_

Mark looks cute as hell, giggling on the dance floor with Taeyong, watching him do a move and awkwardly but enthusiastically copying it. Taeyong keeps steering him into different positions, hands light on Mark's body, and even though Mark's only got his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, Johnny burns that Taeyong is touching his bare skin before Johnny's gotten the chance. 

Mark starts to sweat in the crush of bodies and activity. He seems to gleam, the collar of his shirt sticking to his pretty collarbones. 

In some ways, it's a strange experience to watch Mark. He's had Mark in a box of distance for so long that he thinks of Mark as a voice first, then maybe as his texting style, and then last as a face. As a body, moving through the world. Mark's sent him pictures (including one shy and too-dark dick pic that Johnny stared at for too long before replying) and they've FaceTimed, but even that was contained to Johnny's phone. Mark's a real person, vibrant and lovely, and Johnny is suddenly very much not willing to sit idly by and watch. 

He comes up to the two of them from an angle behind Mark. Taeyong sees him first and smiles, backing away, and Mark goes to follow, probably thinking it's another move for him to imitate, but Johnny catches him by the shoulder and spins him around. 

"Johnny!" Mark says, like they're just meeting each other all over again. He's even more damp than Johnny thought, his bangs stuck to his forehead. He's beautiful under the club lights, his eyes shining. 

"Couldn't let Taeyong have all the fun," Johnny says. 

\--- 

_THEN_

Mark went silent when Johnny told him he broke up with Wendy, and then offered a quiet "I'm sorry" into the pause while Johnny chewed his lower lip raw and considered how he would say it, if he even could. 

"Don't be sorry. I realized I wasn't happy with her. It wasn't what I wanted." 

"Well, that still sucks—" 

"Are you happy with what's-his-face, Daniel?" Johnny asked, like a bull in a fucking china shop. 

"Uhhh. I'm not… We've only gone out once?" 

Quietly, Johnny felt relief and satisfaction that there hadn't been a second time, or at least not yet. That some kid hadn't gotten his paws all over Mark again. That he still had a shot to say something. 

"So it isn't serious?" he asked, to be sure. 

"No?" Mark said, clearly confused. Johnny didn't make a habit of drilling him about his dating life, especially after the confession. It was the elephant in the room between them, carefully ignored. 

"Good." 

"Good?" Mark echoed, even more lost, voice dipping into incredulity and maybe even offense. "What—" 

"The thought of him touching you makes me crazy, Mark." 

There was a long, long silence on the other end. Johnny even checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. His heart felt like it had stalled in his chest. 

"Johnny," Mark said, low and pained, like Johnny was tormenting him. Maybe he was. This was all coming out wrong, with none of Johnny's usual ease. 

Even after a deep breath, what Johnny said next was still clumsy, scraping his throat on the way out. "I don't know what I'm doing or how we'd figure it out, but I want you. It's insane, you're in Canada and a guy and basically just a voice, but I can't stop thinking about you." 

Mark went silent again, but Johnny could hear him breathing. 

"Mark?" Johnny tried. "You gotta say something, bud. I'm kind of dying on the line here." 

"For real?" Mark asked in the tiniest voice Johnny had heard from him. "You're not messing with me?" 

"Yeah, for real." He caught himself smiling despite the uncertainty and tenuousness of the moment, of his own feelings. "So is that a yes, you're interested in figuring it out?" 

"Oh my _God_. Oh my Jesus, Johnny— Yes, fucking of course I'm interested!" Mark's voice cracking clean down the middle got Johnny grinning like a fool, and in a second, he was out from under his own nerves. 

A lot could change in a few months. There was no reason Mark's crush had to be anything more than temporary. But Johnny thought there was something to it, the wistfulness in Mark's voice, the distance while he thought Johnny was still dating and how asked leading questions about it, then suddenly changed the subject. His hunch was right; Mark still wanted him. And Johnny wanted him back. 

Now they had to figure out what that looked like in practice. 

\--- 

_NOW_

Johnny is very aware that if he took a girl to a club, he'd be all over her, and the space he's put between him and Mark sucks. But he's still not reconciled to the two opposing forces in his head—the twenty-plus years of his identity as straight, totally comfortable and content there, and the way his heart judders in his chest with the desire to be good to Mark, the way it squeezes at something as dumb as the way Mark tries to moonwalk a circle around him. Mark's having a good time despite Johnny dancing with him like they're bros, and Johnny's having a good time too, but now he's wishing they weren't in a mess of people. 

It's likely no one would care if Johnny touched Mark, even if this place probably isn't on a list of Chicago's gay-friendly venues. He didn't see anyone give Taeyong any looks when he was touching Mark earlier, helping him to learn and even a little extra, just because Taeyong's an affectionate guy. But the space between Johnny and Mark is a gulf. 

Mark stops dancing to tug on his Henley and fan himself with the fabric. "Whew, I didn't dress for the weather, did I?" he asks, laughing. "D'you think someone took over our table or is my water still safe?" 

It would be easier if Johnny could keep track of his impulses. They keep rising up and doing battle. Right now, all he wants is to slide his hand up Mark's shirt and feel his damp abs. But then he immediately gets hit with a wave of self-consciousness. They haven't even kissed, for one. 

"I'll get you some more water, don't worry about it," Johnny says, and breaks toward the bar—but he lets himself drag his hand along Mark's clothed waist, pretty brief but too firm to be an accident. 

He looks back over his shoulder while he's waiting for the water, and Mark is standing still in the middle of the writhing activity of the club, staring at Johnny, his mouth parted and his tongue between his teeth. 

\--- 

_THEN_

Mark texted him his test results a few days before his scheduled departure. 

**Mark:** As if it were ever in doubt lmao but I'm officially STD free 😜✌  
**Johnny:** I mean I believed you  
**Mark:** Yeah but this way you know you know hahaha  


Johnny got a full panel of STD tests at his checkup last month, mostly out of habit. Johnny hadn't hooked up with anyone since Wendy months ago, and he always wore condoms, but the shit Mark dragged out of him in their late-night calls meant he knew exactly why Mark had done this. 

**Johnny:** I appreciate your commitment to safety  
**Mark:** Well I appreciate your commitment to stuffing me full of your cum haha 

Johnny, at work, dropped his phone onto his desk and stifled an undignified yell. 

\--- 

_NOW_

They relocate to a booth when Mark wants to take a break, breathing hard and overheating despite Johnny bringing him water every few songs. Taeyong trails after them, sweat beaded delicately along his hairline. The adrenaline of moving around, of sharing energy with so many people in an enclosed space and especially Mark, has Johnny buzzing. It feels like someone gave him an edible; he's vibing like he's having a good set, not worried about what his next move will be, trusting himself to make the right choice. 

Johnny slings his arm around Mark's shoulders, and after an initial moment where he feels Mark tense, Mark settles. There's still space between them, a gap of deniability. Johnny is starting to get impatient with himself but knows better than to push too fast and have his anxieties spring back and hurt Mark. 

"It's really cool you started to teach," Mark says, one hand fiddling with his straw and the other on the booth table next to Johnny, twitching every so often. Johnny studies his fingers, the curve of his wrist. "Like, you were so good with me, I can imagine your students have a really fun time." 

"Thank you," Taeyong says in his ducky little voice, which means he's touched. "You picked everything up so quickly. You should drop in for a session while you're here, if you have the time." 

Mark laughs and shrinks back in the booth like he's physically recoiling from the idea. "Yo, you'd have to put me in with the little kids and I'd _still_ embarrass myself." 

Taeyong—drunk, sweet Taeyong, who is tempted to go home with people he meets in places like this not so much to fuck them but to make them dinner and clean their apartment—reaches across the table and pats Mark's hand. "Don't be nervous," he says sincerely, still patting Mark's knuckles. "You're so cute." 

Mark laughs loud, with a tinge of embarrassment behind it. 

Taeyong snags Johnny's water and sips it, eyeing Mark, then switches his gaze to Johnny, where it softens even more. "Johnny thinks so too," Taeyong continues. "He opens up your selcas and just stares at them sometimes." 

"Okayyy," Johnny says, as Mark casts him a sidelong glance and Taeyong finishes his drink, the smug bastard. Taeyong was the first person Johnny confessed to about his confusing and less than platonic feelings about Mark—well before he even told _Mark_. He's a solid, solid friend, but he's also a torment because all he wants is Johnny to be happy, and he's not going to be subtle about it now that he's met Mark and Mark passed his inspection. With flying colors, Johnny suspects. "Has anyone seen or heard from Sehun in a minute?" 

"I saw him doing shots a while ago," Taeyong says. "I can go find him, but he probably weaseled his way into VIP again." 

Bottle service and Sehun are a deadly combination. Johnny's usually able to reel him in, but he wants the night off since Mark's here. "Probably we should make sure he's alive, yeah." 

Taeyong pops up with the grace of someone far more sober than he is, stretching his arms over his head like he's warming up. "I'll text you," he says, and ruffles Mark's hair fondly before he's off. 

"It's really cool how you guys all watch out for each other," Mark says. "My friends don't really party outside the dorms, and I'm lucky to get a text out of them if they, like, leave to hook up with somebody." 

"I think it just comes with the territory. I'm in clubs every other weekend for gigs, and Taeyong started tagging along to hype me up and get some dancing in," Johnny explains. "It's a good excuse for the group to hang out a few times a month, and I see all the bad shit that goes down, so they know better than to do shit like take drinks from strangers. Most of the time, anyway." 

It really is a shame Mark hasn't seen the whole crew together, Ten and Jaehyun and Irene enabling Sehun's bad ideas and having dance-offs with Taeyong. Ten said he was busy but that he also didn't want to overwhelm Mark with too many people on his first night, which Johnny thought was bullshit initially. Now he's reconsidering. Mark was clearly nervous around Sehun and Taeyong for the first hour, to say nothing of the shy glances he kept giving Johnny, and this mediocre club's laser display made him starry-eyed with awe. The whole group of them, tearing it up, singing, yelling, getting up in his business with their drunk tenacity? Mark wouldn't know how to act. 

Mark nods his head off, like what Johnny said is brand-new, crucial information. Johnny hopes he already knew not to take drinks from strangers, but when would golden boy Mark Lee have ventured somewhere seedy to flirt back in Vancouver? He thinks kissing in the back row at the movies is risqué. 

While Johnny's busy thinking, Mark turns his hand on the table and runs his fingers over Johnny's Tag Heuer, gentle with the face like his fingers might crack it. Johnny tilts his wrist to give him better access, and Mark traces the gold stripe up the band. 

"My mom gave it to me when I landed my first salaried job," Johnny says. "She was so excited." 

"Little did she know you'd be quitting in three months." Mark laughs, shaking his head. The pad of his fingertip grazes Johnny's wrist bone. "Your poor mom, yo." 

Johnny quit his toxic First Real Job right after he started talking to Mark with regularity, and he had a dangerous two months where he couldn't find something to replace it and was living off meager savings and what he made from gigs. His mom almost made him move back home, she was so worried about him, and angry, but that company was top-down rancid with tech-bro misogyny and racism, and just bad practices all around. They routinely scheduled meetings to begin at six p.m., well after quitting time, and Johnny's boss yelled if someone so much as had a question about a PowerPoint deck. 

He wonders if he and Mark would have bonded as hard and as fast as they did if Johnny had stayed in the job and hadn’t had a sudden preponderance of free time. He thinks maybe so; Johnny had been talking to Mark more frequently anyway, despite the fact that he was drowning in misery and overtime, but quitting the job really made it a habit. He'd wait for Mark to get done with classes or tutoring or church and they'd watch Netflix and chill, in the non-suggestive meaning of the term, at least until Johnny got his head out of his ass. 

"She got me a book on budgeting when I finally got hired again." Johnny took a 15% pay cut and moved into his studio to withstand it, but the job was so much better in every other possible way. Even though his mom had reservations about Johnny working for a nonprofit, at least she couldn't complain about him DJing to make ends meet and keeping consistently awful hours anymore. "Message received, I guess." 

Mark chuckles. "My mom got all three of my suits dry-cleaned and hung them on the outside of my closet. I'm in for a marathon of job hunting when I get back." 

Mark graduated that summer, and he took a few months to decompress and consider if he wanted to go any further in academia (no, as it turned out), working part-time at a yogurt shop ("I don't even fucking like yogurt and they keep making me take home gallons of it") in the meantime. 

Johnny doesn't know how to bring up the paid internships Jaehyun's company offers, or the fact that Johnny has leads into Chicago's music scene. Seems like a pushy thing to bring up when Mark's here for the first time—and they haven't even kissed yet. 

That reminds him of what's waiting for him, back at his apartment. The kiss, probably; more, maybe. They're going to share Johnny's bed, after all. He's not sure how any of it will work but has to trust that it will. And soon, given that he's kept Mark out pretty late and he should get him home with time to unpack and talk, if he wants. 

"What time is it?" he asks, since Mark's still fiddling with his watch. 

Mark leans over, not so far that Johnny's arm is dislodged around his shoulders, and squints down at the face. "Uh, it's like ten-thirty?" 

"You wanna get out of here soon?" 

"Hey, I'm good as long as you are," Mark says, despite the fact that he's carrying his exhaustion like it's the backpack at his feet. 

"You don't have to prove anything." Mark scrunches his nose at that, and looks like he's coming up with a retort, but Johnny knows Mark would let Johnny drag him from venue to venue until Mark literally passed out. He's a people pleaser. Johnny leans in, mouth close to Mark's ear. "Plus if you keep looking so damn cute, I'm gonna have to kiss you, and our first kiss is _not_ happening in this club." 

He pulls back to see what impact that had, not allowing himself more than the smallest twist to his lips. As expected, Mark ducks his head, embarrassed, but comes up with his eyes gleaming in the next second. 

_Uh-oh_ , Johnny has time to think before Mark's lips bump his ear. 

"You could do it, 형." He curls his fingers around Johnny's wrist right above the watch. "You could fuck me in the bathrooms if you wanted." 

Johnny goes for a sip of water. Mark, despite truly worrying about being arrested for kissing in a movie theater, says this shit on the regular. It's just usually when Johnny's lights are off and he's in bed. Hearing it live and in person, Mark's hot breath stirring his hair, is something else. Johnny's fighting a blush like he's never been propositioned before. "That's certainly an image," he says eventually. 

Mark squeezes his wrist. "I mean it." Johnny turns his head to see Mark serious-faced and nervous, licking his lips. "I'm— You know that thing I got?" 

Johnny frowns trying to remember. Mark got a lot in preparation for coming, including new clothes from an all-day shopping trip with his mom, who, after a month of adjustment and what Johnny gathered were painful fights, took it like a champ that her youngest son is sort of dating some guy in Chicago. She's started calling Johnny "Johnny-yah" when Mark FaceTimes him in the common areas of the house. "Your tablet?" Johnny asks, stumped. 

"No, oh my God." They've drifted back into what counts as a conversational volume in a club, which means Mark almost shouts the next words: "The—plug. You know." 

It still takes a second for that to register, that Mark means the _anal plugs_ he braved internet shopping to acquire are with him. Or he guesses in him. "You don't mean," Johnny starts, a shiver of confounded arousal trawling up his spine. 

"Remember when I went to the bathroom at the pizza place?" Mark's at least whispering now so no one squeezing by their booth can hear the details. "I put it in, just in case." 

\--- 

_THEN_

Whatever hesitancy Mark had over coming out, over grappling with himself, seemed to not apply to the things he said and did with Johnny. He was pretty inexperienced and self-conscious about it, but maybe that added fuel to the fire. The fire of Mark's perpetual horniness. 

It maybe helped that they rarely saw each other when they got off, sticking to just phone sex. Johnny was more likely to get a sleepy, flushed selfie of Mark in bed after than photographic evidence of anything overtly sexual. Johnny wasn't too excited to whip his dick out over a frequently blurry, pixelated connection either, so he got it. But it worried him sometimes, that their keeping things mostly to phone sex meant he had a layer of disconnect—of deniability—between himself and his actual desires. 

Other times, he thought he was going to immolate from just hearing Mark, let alone somehow touching him. 

"Oh, fuck," Mark whimpered, and the connection was good enough to pick up the slick sounds of his dick in his fist. "Been thinking about your dick in me all day. Busting me wide open." 

Johnny, the older of the two and the one with actual relationship experience, struggled to do more than pant into his phone. "Mark, I'm gonna come—" 

Mark's voice turned low and growly, demanding, "Then fucking give me it, Johnny. Give me that nut right now, let me hear it—" 

"Where do you want it?" Johnny asked, aiming his dick toward his own stomach and cupping his palm over the head. 

"You know I want it inside me, I wanna feel it drip out—" 

Johnny closed his eyes and made a noise he'd deny and shot off in his own palm, Mark's sighs and curses milking him through it. Mark came a second later, with a sob, and Johnny's body tensed as second-hand pleasure played havoc with his nerves after he'd already come. His dick gave one last weak spurt, streaking under his navel. 

"You're the horniest person I've ever met," Johnny said eventually, while Mark rustled around his bed cleaning himself up. 

Mark laughed, tired and low. He always got so sleepy after coming, though he tried to stay on the line and talk about his plans for the next day. "We both know that's not true. I just gotta be creative because of the distance." 

Johnny heaved himself off his bed and onto his feet with a groan, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, heading straight to his kitchen sink to wash his hands. He dampened a paper towel to clean up the precome and spit all over his abs too. "Yeah, _creative_ is definitely the word for all the nasty shit that comes out of your mouth." 

At this point, Mark knew him well enough to know Johnny was only grumbling because of how well it worked. The first time Mark told him he wanted Johnny's come inside of him, that he wanted it raw, Johnny shouted with how hard he came, and Mark hasn't shown him any mercy since. 

"You love it," Mark said, making noises like he was yawning and stretching, and Johnny grinned to himself and padded back to bed. 

"I will neither confirm nor deny." Johnny flopped back down, careful of his tender dick, and burrowed into the covers. He put the phone on speaker so it would feel like Mark was next to him and shut his eyes. 

\--- 

_NOW_

It's a bad idea to kiss Mark in a men's room stall, the smell of liquor and industrial-strength cleaner and urinal cake and other unsavory things around them, but Johnny's got him pushed against the door and straining the cheap lock anyway. 

"You're a fucking menace," he says, low, in case there's someone in another stall. He ducks his head and noses Mark's cheek. Mark's hands are fisted in Johnny's T-shirt, pulling the fabric taut. He teases them both, ghosting his lips over Mark's high cheekbone. "Couldn't wait for me to take you home, huh?" 

"Johnny," is all Mark manages, and even in this dim, seedy club light, even in this absolute filth, he's shining like a star, eyes wide and lips parted. 

Johnny groans and seals their mouths together. Mark whimpers but pushes back against him, winding an arm around Johnny's neck. His tongue is quick and clever, like his speech when he forgets to be self-conscious, rapid-fire and endearing. Johnny chases it, forcing his mouth wider. 

Mark tastes shockingly good for being post-dinner and drinks, and Johnny savors him. There's no weirdness, no hesitation, when Mark's grabbing at him means his half-hard dick rubs against Johnny's stomach. On the contrary, Johnny is hit with potent desire. 

All their dirty talk, their half-hoping plans for what they'd do when they finally saw each other, never quite felt real, but this does. This is real, Mark moaning into Johnny's mouth and letting him bite his soft lips. 

Johnny pulls away, resting his forehead against Mark's, breathing hard. Mark's no better off. Johnny hears someone else come in, letting in a burst of loud music with them that rattles the air of privacy he's tricked themselves into thinking they have. 

Mark fits in his arms too well, Johnny thinks, testing the shape of the small waist he only briefly let himself touch earlier. 

"I'm not fucking you in this bathroom," Johnny says, a deadly murmur no one but Mark can catch. "You're more important to me than that." 

Mark nods, but his grip on Johnny tightens and he won't look up. "I just wanted to be ready," he says. Johnny hears another blast of loud music and barely cares if it means someone is leaving or entering. It's a club bathroom, so it's still loud in here, probably enough to cover the sound of their voices. "S'embarrassing, sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," he says. His hand wanders down Mark's back to cup his ass through his jeans, knocking against the stall door along the way, and Mark arches toward him. Even though this is all new for them, and Johnny knows Mark has got to be in over his head and probably terrified, he's still falling over himself to give it up. Johnny's jaw clenches, and he kisses Mark's temple. "And don't be embarrassed. It's hot." 

The knowledge that Mark has been plugged for him for over an hour now, spread open and filled, in anticipation of Johnny's cock, is almost enough to have Johnny regretting not taking the offer. But Mark deserves a nice, clean bed, and to be able to make as much noise as he wants as Johnny breaks him in. They can get adventurous once Mark's not fucking cherry, when he's used to taking Johnny's cock. 

"You like it?" Mark asks. The sound of the hand dryer coming on almost drowns him out. 

"Yeah, baby, I do," Johnny says, and grips Mark's ass tighter. He's pleased with how Mark fills his palm, pert and taut. "Which one did you put in?" He's concerned Mark might hurt himself by wandering around with something jammed inside him, but he moved okay, even danced okay. Mark's sporadically brave and bold but not enough to pretend like he isn't hurting, Johnny thinks. 

"Just the small one," Mark mumbles. His cheek squishes against Johnny's collarbone. "Feels good." 

"I bet it does." 

Johnny's had a finger in his ass before; he thought he was straight, not boring. Remembering the awareness, the pleasure, of the intrusion makes him want to wriggle his hand into Mark's jeans and tug at the base of the plug, make Mark feel even better and fuck it up against his prostate if he can find it, but he refrains. If he starts playing with Mark for real, he doesn't know how far he'll go. 

It's objectively weird to be cradling Mark in this foul space, both of them sticky with sweat and still learning how they fit together, but Johnny wouldn't trade it. It's not the height of romance, that's for sure, not the dates Taeyong helped him plan or the half-baked fantasies Johnny's nurtured of being able to touch Mark, but it's good. It's great. He gives Mark's ass one last squeeze and then pats his back. 

"Let's get you home, huh?" 

\--- 

_THEN_

Part of Johnny's hesitation was Mark's inexperience. He's kissed a few girls, gotten a blowjob from one, and he went on that one date with the guy who gave him a handjob. Johnny doesn't think that matters too much, but at the same time, there's an age gap and an experience gap making him worry about them not aligning. Johnny's dated and fucked for years, and he's gone further with men than Mark has. It's a lot of pressure to be someone's first time. It's a lot of pressure to make it good. 

Then Mark let slip that he bought himself a prostate toy, and Johnny heard him slick himself up and nervously slide it in, and thirty minutes of stops and starts later he was gasping down the line, at one point dropping the phone entirely to curl up and shake. That was when Johnny worried a lot less about Mark's experience and started reading about prep. 

\--- 

_NOW_

They find Taeyong again on the way out, and it turns out he did enough detective work to find out Sehun already left with someone and just forgot to press send on his text. Taeyong gives a thorough goodbye, even wrapping Mark up in a tight hug until he squeaks. He hugs Johnny too, saying something into his ear that Johnny doesn't catch but guesses the gist of. Taeyong is often his reminder to worry about other people's feelings, when Johnny gets too in his own head. 

"Don't worry about it," he says, and pushes Taeyong's bony shoulder. "Go dance, Yongie." 

"Text me tomorrow," Taeyong says, and somehow melts into the crowd despite the beacon of his pink hair. 

Johnny tugs Mark out through the teeming maze of people and to the doors. Once they exit the heat and noise of the club, being outside in the cool, still air almost makes him feel dizzy. Mark adjusts his backpack and walks at Johnny's side for two silent blocks, their wrists and fingers brushing as their arms swing. 

He's sighted his parked car when Mark sighs like it's an oasis in the desert. 

"You tired?" Johnny asks, glancing sidelong at Mark, who has kept pace with Johnny's long strides no problem. He's clearly not feeling any discomfort from the plug inside him. 

"Not too tired," Mark hedges, and breaks off from Johnny's side with a cheeky look when Johnny's two pushes to his key fob unlock the doors. "You know me." 

"Do I?" Johnny asks, eyebrows up, looking at Mark over the roof of his car. "I know you snore into the phone when I keep you up past your bedtime, I guess." 

"Lies," Mark giggles, and then ducks into the passenger seat. 

When Johnny's ready to go and checking the backup cam, Mark rustles through his bag and comes up with a pack of gum, offering Johnny a piece he declines as Mark crams two into his mouth. "It's technically only like eight back home." He chomps away, curious eyes taking in Johnny's hands on the gearshift and steering wheel the same way he did on the way from the airport. "Nowhere near bedtime." 

"You were traveling for like seven hours and then got dragged to a club," Johnny points out. 

"Pfft," Mark says. "It's nothing." 

Johnny knows this part of Chicago well enough even if it's not his neighborhood, so he's driving by rote, and it makes it easy to cast Mark knowing glances from the corner of his eye. "I _know_ you were too excited to sleep much last night." 

Mark's silent for a second. Johnny sees him fidget with the strap of his backpack. "Guilty," he says, subdued, almost like Johnny scolded him. 

Yeah, that won't do. Johnny adjusts his grip on the steering wheel to place his hand on Mark's thigh—so high up he's basically flirting with his groin. Mark's leg flexes under his touch. Johnny spares another glance and is unreasonably pleased by how his skinny thigh looks dwarfed by Johnny's grip. 

"I know because I had to take a Melatonin at three in the morning so I could finally pass out," Johnny says. 

There's a lull, but it's comfortable. His peeks at Mark in the passenger seat, illuminated by streetlights or all but shrouded in the dark from moment to moment, looking soft and happy, relaxed against the seat despite the tension still in his leg. Johnny plays with the seam on his inner thigh just to be a dick, stroking his thumb slow over the raised texture. 

"I'm just happy to be here, man," Mark says, with a little sigh. He's heavy-lidded with exhaustion and contentment, and Johnny is going to wreck this car if he keeps looking his fill. 

"Yeah," Johnny agrees. 

\--- 

_THEN_

When Mark came out to his mom, she apparently looked like she'd seen a ghost and went as pale as one. 

Mark kept describing it, rehashing the way he told her in the middle of folding laundry, the way he'd planned a whole speech in his head and what came out instead was a clumsy, "Mom, I'm gay, I'm sorry, I love you." 

"And then she dropped the socks, and I should have waited for her to say something, but the silence was making me feel like I was going to end up screaming. And all she said was 'How do you know?'" The distress in Mark's voice was palpable. The little breaks in his speech when he managed to stop and collect himself before barreling on, circling back to whatever moment was haunting him, seemed to ache. 

"That's tough, Mark," Johnny said. All told, though, Johnny was relieved it wasn't worse. The knot of vicarious worry in his stomach had dissipated some; Mark probably wasn't on the verge of being kicked out, if the way she hugged him before he went off to her room to think was any indication. 

"And then I said, 'Well, I know the same way you know you aren't gay,' and I told her about trying with girls. Fuck, Johnny, I told her about Daniel, and I said I had a boyfriend—" 

"You told her about me?" It would be unkind to point out that they'd never said the word _boyfriend_ before, in the context of figuring it out between them. That Mark had jumped the gun and assigned him a role he wasn't sure he knew how to fill or wanted. Johnny, or maybe the whisper of Taeyong's influence, told himself to keep quiet and bring it up at another time. 

"Yeah, I did. She said something about wanting to talk to you, soon, before she wandered away like she was sleepwalking." 

Johnny paused at that, eyebrows going up and stomach lurching uneasily. "That's… Okay, we'll figure that out later." There was no telling what was in store for Johnny once Mark's mom got on the phone with him, the supposed boyfriend. Christ. "Kinda wish you had told me you were going to out me to your mom too, bud." 

"I didn't do it on purpose," Mark objected, voice flattening. "Like, sorry I felt I had to prove to my mom that I knew I was gay for sure and wasn't just confused." 

"I'm not mad at you," Johnny said, as calmly as he'd said anything. "I just don't appreciate—" 

"Wow, Johnny, okay, I super do not need this to be happening right now," Mark said, voice thickening with what sounded like tears. 

While Johnny withstood a hot rush of anger and a surge of protectiveness, keeping both at arm's length, Mark ended the call without another word. 

\--- 

_NOW_

Mark left the door open to the bathroom for his shower. 

Johnny stares at it, already half-undressed himself. He stares at the way steam has already started drifting from his box of a bathroom. He's taken off his watch and rings and necklace, his shirt still in his hand, ready to be put in the hamper. Which is in the bathroom, funnily enough. 

It's a clear invitation, especially after the way Mark kissed him before he went inside to shower, lingering and with a nip at the end that Johnny hadn't expected. 

"Take that fucking plug out and relax," Johnny instructed, teasing him until Mark blushed but rolled his eyes. 

"You're not gonna let me live it down, are you?" Mark asked, but he took his bag of toiletries and his sleep clothes and Johnny's guest towel and wandered off without waiting for a response. 

He'd stripped behind the half-open door, and probably tugged the plug from the hot clench of his body, only a handful of feet from Johnny given the dimensions of his apartment. Turned on Johnny's shower, checked the temperature—or so Johnny imagined, as he was busy tidying up and trying not to think of Mark getting naked and climbing into his bed after—and stepped inside, but not before pushing the door open wider. 

Every step of the way, Mark has been the one to leave the door open for Johnny, regardless of his own comfort. He was the first one to say something, to take Johnny's rejection with grace and to steer them back into neutral territory; to let Johnny hear him fall apart; to preempt Johnny asking what he wanted and telling him in a thousand ways, from begging to be rawed to casually disclosing that he thought he'd like being held until he fell asleep but not during. Any time Johnny hesitates, or gets weird, Mark distracts him until the moment passes. 

All this heavy lifting, and all of it for Johnny's benefit. He's not unaware of how much Mark does for him, and unfortunately, he's even more aware of why he does it. Because Johnny might spook. Because Johnny took Mark's coming out to his own mother as some kind of a reflection of Johnny Suh. Because, despite their disparity in age and experience, Mark's been aware of and okay with his attraction to men for much, much longer than Johnny. Because Johnny told his mom that he was "sort of" seeing Mark, and whether he was capitulating to their LDR or to the fact that Mark is a man, he's not quite sure. And he hates that. The hedging, and the parts of him still too unyielding and caught up on his own image to hold Mark's hand in public. 

Even tonight, Johnny was too nervous to take Mark somewhere private and have a nice dinner with him, alone. To have their first kiss somewhere private, maybe on Johnny's couch in front of the TV. Instead, he pushed him into a brand-new social situation, totally outside of Mark's comfort zone, and groped him in a bathroom stall. 

He's so adept at making it easy for Johnny, he made his literal body available to Johnny, plugging himself so Johnny could slide in. 

"Mark," Johnny calls, and hopes the shower covers how raw his voice sounds. 

"Yeah?" 

"Did you want me in there with you, baby?" 

There's a small moment where Mark's silent and Johnny worries he somehow misconstrued the open door, but then Mark says, "Yeah," in a shy voice. 

"Yeah?" Johnny repeats. He moves forward and leans into the doorway. Mark is a blurry shape behind the frosted glass of Johnny's shower doors. And on the sink, balanced on a washcloth, is Mark's plug, gleaming in the bathroom light. His gut twists, and in the same moment, he wants to laugh at how ridiculous and sexy it is. "You know we don't have to do anything tonight. I know you're tired and overwhelmed. And I gotta be honest, some no-strings-attached snuggling sounds really fucking good right now." 

There's another pause, and Johnny tries to put Mark's silhouette into some sort of sense despite the glass' distortion. There's his arm, maybe his hand in his hair, scrubbing out shampoo. There's his hip. 

"We can do that," Mark says, slow, like he's turning the idea over. "I'd like that too. But I mean, I just spent like two hours teasing my prostate, so I'm gonna have to jerk off in here either way." The water in Johnny's shower seems to grow louder, like someone increased the pressure, as Johnny processes that. "Seems like something you might want to get in on." 

Johnny bites his lip and considers that. He knows they're going to fuck, full-on, probably in the next day or two, that Mark'll be naked in front of him a dozen times before he goes home, and that stalling Mark might give the wrong impression. But God, Mark deserves a relaxing night where he doesn't have to worry about taking dick for the first time, about giving it up to Johnny, after everything he's been through. "Only jerking off?" Johnny asks. 

"I don't know how adventurous you can get in a shower this small," Mark says. 

"You'd be surprised," Johnny mutters. 

"Just get in, Johnny," he says, brave as hell as usual. "Lemme see those abs in person." 

Johnny laughs and pushes down his jeans and boxer-briefs, leaving them on the floor in a pile. Mark slides open the door furthest away from the showerhead and peeks out at him through the small gap, hair wet and pushed back from his face. His eyebrows look even more stark like this, in a state of constant surprise. 

"Holy shit," Mark says, licking his lips despite the water beaded all over his face. "That's what you look like soft?" 

"My eyes are up here, pervert." 

Johnny grips the shower door and pushes until Mark steps back under the spray. There really isn't going to be much room for them together, and Johnny is going to freeze at the back of the tub, but the heady excitement mounting in him means none of that matters. Not when there’s Mark, naked and turned to face the spray while Johnny steps in, swallowed up by steam and the fragrant, tropical smell of his own shampoo and conditioner. 

" _That's_ what you're working with, Mark Lee?" Johnny asks, too astonished to even make it sexy. 

Mark cranes to look over his shoulder, surprisingly broad uncovered like this, and looks alarmed. "What?" 

"Your peach of an ass. My God." It's made even more miraculous by the fact that the rest of him is so trim, streamlined; he's not a tiny dude by any means, but his slim, almost delicate calves thicken into wiry, muscular thighs, and then he's topped off by this full, pert, fucking pornographic butt. Johnny clicks his tongue and moves forward, chasing the heat of the water and his own visceral draw to Mark's body. "You couldn't even send me a mirror shot? I had to find out right now?" 

Mark seems more amused than embarrassed by Johnny's appreciation, which Johnny finds charming. Mark just doesn't stop surprising him. He thinks he knows how Mark operates, bad at compliments and stuttering with nerves, and then he's wearing a butt plug or shaking his head fondly because Johnny wants to bury his face in Mark's ass and never come up for air. 

"I told you it's decent," Mark says, rubbing shower gel over his shoulders. He's keeping his front to the spray—nervous, Johnny guesses. To be so exposed. 

"Decent isn't the word, but okay," Johnny argues. He leans against the back wall of the shower, wincing at the sting of the cold against his skin. True to his prediction, it's cold and uncomfortable, but he pays that no mind. 

Mark is rinsing the gel from his body, and much as Johnny would love to stand there and ogle Mark's ass for the next eternity, there's still the matter of Mark's getting off. 

What would have felt like a potential crisis point, a big moment of reveal, a few months ago is nothing but anticipation under Johnny's skin. He finds the pitch and timbre he uses when it's dark and Mark's breathing heavy in his ear. "Can you turn around and show me your pretty cock?" he asks. 

"Ye— Oh my God." Mark turns, putting his back to the spray, careful of the slippery surface under his feet. "You're the worst." 

Johnny's seen bits and pieces of Mark's naked body, including that grainy, too-dark shot of his dick, but all of it at once is a whole new thing. Mark's brown nipples are hard and small on his chest, his ribs showing under the skin, hints of divots around his abs, a soft little pouch under his belly button on every exhale. He's manscaped since that one dick pic, and his mostly hard cock is pinkish against his thigh. It looks soft, like Johnny would enjoy kissing over it for the sensation. 

"Damn, it is pretty, I was right," Johnny says, and Mark makes an aborted gesture to cover himself, like he can't stand knowing it's being looked at. "Come here." 

" _You_ come here, it's gotta be cold back there," Mark challenges. 

Johnny laughs and concedes the point, leaning in until Mark's close enough to grab. He goes for his hips, the flesh there dimpling under his grip. Mark's slippery as Johnny pulls him in for a kiss. The spray is only hitting half their bodies, but it's enough to keep them warm. 

Their dicks touch almost immediately because of course they do. Where Johnny feels a nice ping of pleasure, Mark's hips snap in shock, and he gasps into Johnny's mouth. Johnny licks deeper into Mark's mouth, learning the edges of his teeth and how sensitive the ridges on the roof are if he strokes over them. Mark gets fully hard against him like that, and Johnny indulges himself with a handful of Mark's ass. 

"Just like this," he breathes against Mark's cheek. "Come on me." 

Mark buries his face in Johnny's neck and groans. "Won't take long." 

Not like that's a problem. Johnny's hard fast, almost dizzyingly so, in response to how Mark feels under his hands. Mark tries a few nervous thrusts, cock trapped between them, until precome smears on Johnny's stomach. Mark peers down as best he can in the tight space to see his cock sliding across Johnny's skin, mouth open like he's mesmerized. 

A few more thrusts in, when Johnny's hand has started to wander, Mark asks, "What about you?" 

"I can come like this too," Johnny says, because right now that is the last thing Mark needs to worry about. He kisses the highest point of Mark's cheekbone while his fingers trace the split of Mark's ass and immediately detect the silky glide of lube, distinct from the water. God, he's still wet, slicked deep and worked open. His fingers would slide in so easy— 

"You should come in me," Mark says, and he's so into the idea he clutches Johnny's back and tries to work his thigh forward so they're even closer. 

"Mark," Johnny says, a warning. "You're not doing anal for the first time in a club bathroom _or_ the shower." 

"No, I don't mean…" Frustrated, Mark huffs. "You don't have to go inside, just, I want you to come there." 

Johnny's speechless for a second, barraged with images and impulses and a truly weird gratefulness for Mark. He won't stop pushing Johnny, surprising him. Johnny suspects that will remain the case for a good long while. "You want me to paint you with my come? Push my cockhead right against your little hole?" Johnny's got some tricks up his metaphorical sleeves too, and he smiles when Mark shakes in his arms. 

"Fuck," Mark hisses. His hips almost drive Johnny backward—Johnny reaches out a hand and steadies himself on the shower wall. "Yeah, God." 

"Want me to finger it inside when you're done, huh? All the times you begged for my load, you finally gonna get it?" 

Mark chants "yes, yes" into Johnny's skin and drives his hand between them, twisting over the head fast and hard. "Come in it, it's your hole, it's your—" Johnny slides his fingers a few inches forward until he's stroking ever-so-softly over the rim of Mark's asshole, and it gives sweetly at the first sign of pressure. "Oh, fuck," Mark wails, coming hard as Johnny breaches him to the knuckle and then beyond. He was right; it's so easy, Mark's body lets him in even as he clenches down with every spurt of his orgasm. 

After, Johnny eases his finger out of Mark's twitching, clearly overstimulated body, and just holds him in place. He's shuddering, clinging to Johnny, and Johnny strokes over the planes of his back and the knobs of his spine. "Got you," he murmurs, and more nonsense, until Mark stirs against his chest. 

"You with me?" Johnny asks, and Mark nods. 

He pulls back with a sniff. "Yeah, I think I'm back online." 

Johnny pushes Mark's sopping bangs away from his forehead, where they've started to trickle water down his face. "Thank you for that." 

Mark tilts his head, studying Johnny, and ultimately doesn't respond. He strokes Johnny's face instead, his cheek, thumb testing the dip under Johnny's lower lip. "You ready?" he asks, the same stripped-bare, throaty voice Johnny's heard dozens of times now. But it's never been like this. "How do you want me?" 

"Like this," Johnny says, loath to move Mark any more than he has to, when he's got everything he could possibly want. Mark's eyes, always so wide; his small mouth, red from Johnny's teeth; the smooth expanse of his neck; his spent cock brushing Johnny's thigh; the memory of his hot fucking hole milking Johnny's finger. Yeah, two or three thrusts between Mark's thighs and he's gonna be done. 

It's this good already, and it's just some humping in a shower. Johnny's going to burn up when they actually get into bed. 

Blindly, he pushes his cock downward, sliding past Mark's balls, over his perineum, and then barely parting his cheeks. He's not _inside_ Mark, not for real, but the hot squeeze of him is almost as good. Johnny rocks his hips until the drag of him makes them both moan. 

"Oh," Mark says. "Oh, you're almost in me." 

"Tomorrow," Johnny promises, and Mark shivers. 

He slips out a few times, since the angle is strange and hard to maintain, but Johnny crushes Mark against him. He can feel himself getting close, his balls drawing up, the numbing pleasure in his belly threatening to crest. 

"Gonna get it," he says. "Feel me rubbing up on that cherry little asshole?" 

"I'm stretched enough you could just put the tip in—" 

Johnny groans and shakes his head, but he hurries to maneuver his hand so he doesn't slip out at the wrong second or come in a mess everywhere. It's going to look so fucking hot, his come all over Mark's hole, which has got to be even prettier than his cock. It'll drip down, and Johnny will collect it with his fingers and slip it inside, and it'll look like he bred him, like he filled him up and it's leaking out— "Coming," Johnny gasps. 

Through some kind of luck, he thrusts forward at the right angle to jet each pulse exactly where Mark wants it. Johnny shudders, the hand propped against the shower wall almost slipping, as pleasure makes him weak. Mark wraps around him and holds still for it, chest heaving. 

"Oh my God," he moans, like he's come again and it's not Johnny absolutely whiting out with pleasure. "Johnny, holy shit." 

"In?" Johnny asks, gruff, barely able to manage that, and Mark whines an affirmative. The abrupt loss of Mark's silky, suffocating heat is a relief to his sensitive cock. Mark's _messy_ with come, Johnny discovers; he shot so much it doesn't matter what's already dripped down. Johnny's fingers trace circles in it, getting sticky with spunk, until Mark makes an impatient noise. 

He pushes his come inside him, and Mark sighs like he's relieved, leaning harder against Johnny's chest. Johnny collects more and works that into him too, and keeps his finger notched inside to make sure it stays there. 

It's among the topmost intimate moments of Johnny's life; he's never fucked raw, but somehow it's not even about that. It's about the way Mark melts into him, the way Johnny wants to fold him inside his embrace and not let him out. 

"Mark." All the heaviness of the moment is in his voice. The relief after hours, and months, of uncertainty. The knowledge that this is what it's like now, between them. Easy and good. Tender, even, which is not a word Johnny uses often. 

Mark kisses his chest so gently. "Yeah," he says. 

They stay like that until the water runs tepid. 

\--- 

_THEN_

"It's like, I'm gay, and that's the worst possible outcome." 

"Why on earth would you think that?" Johnny asked, honestly gobsmacked, especially by the way Mark said it so casually. Like it was a fact. 

"Because if I was bi, my parents could at least be like, 'Oh, well, he can marry a girl and have kids, he can still be normal.' Or I might not even have to tell them." 

"People of any gender can raise or have children," Johnny said mildly. 

"No, I know— Shit, none of this is coming out right." Mark was snapping, extremely unusual for his temperament. Johnny was hard to rattle, though. All the years on the debate team, fashioning himself armor out of a steady gaze and a mild expression, had given him good practice for letting difficult things wash over him. He waited for Mark to think a bit more. "I'm not really mad I'm not bi," he said, sounding subdued. "It's just my brain looking for any excuse to avoid coming out and like, shattering my whole life." 

"I get that," Johnny said. That was conceptually true; he knew a couple queer people who'd dropped the bomb of coming out on their families and watched their lives splinter. "But you don't have to do it until you're ready. Or at least I don't see why you should." 

"What if I get a boyfriend, though?" 

"Then you can reassess." 

Mark made a frustrated noise down the line. It was silent for a few more moments until he asked, "What if I'm never ready?" 

"I think you need to give yourself a little credit. You're out to some of your friends, which had to be hard as hell, and you came out to me tonight no problem. I mean, I know I don't count, since I'm a disembodied voice in Chicago—" 

"Johnny, you definitely count. It means a lot you've been listening to me melt down about this for an hour," Mark said. 

"I'm just touched that you told me, man. I've got your back if you need to work stuff out. As much as I can, anyway," he said. 

"Aww, man, thanks." 

"Just live your life, finish with school, and focus on what you want. If you meet someone, you meet someone, and if he's halfway decent, he won't give a shit about all the family stuff. He'll be too busy running victory laps over his good luck." 

"You think?" Mark asked, in a tone soft with shyness but heavy on skepticism. 

Johnny grinned, shaking his head even though Mark couldn't see him. "Dude, I know so. Any guy who lands you is fucking set for life. You're a catch. I'm like, jealous of this future boyfriend, kinda." 

"Okayyyy," Mark laughed. "You can stop laying it on so thick. I feel way better than I did. Good pep talk." 

"You wanna watch something or just chill some more?" Johnny asked. 

"Shouldn't you go to bed? It's mad late there," Mark asked, sounding very concerned for Johnny's circadian rhythm. 

"I'll go to bed when you do," Johnny said. "You shouldn't be alone after something this major." 

Mark went quiet, and when he thanked Johnny, his voice was tissue-thin. 

_You better know how lucky you got with him_ , Johnny thought with an almost embarrassing intensity, aimed at Mark's hypothetical future boyfriend. _I'll kick your ass if you don't._

\--- 

_NOW_

Mark crawls into bed wearing a faded high school athletics T-shirt and the shortest pair of boxers Johnny thinks a grown man could own. He doesn't pull the covers up, so his bare legs are an arresting sight as he relaxes against the mattress. His phone is in his hand, his teeth are brushed, and he's taken out his contacts and switched to his glasses. His damp hair is drying soft, whispering against the pillow as he wriggles to get comfortable. He looks perfectly at home, and Johnny fights not to stare at him with a dopey smile. 

"I can't believe you're still awake," Johnny confesses, setting out his customary bottle of water for when his mouth dries out in the middle of the night. He passes an extra to Mark just in case and goes to find where he put his keys. They're probably still in his coat pocket. He was so distracted when they got home, he almost tripped over his neat pile of shoes by the door; no telling what else he managed to forget or fuck up. 

"It's still not even late in Vancouver," Mark says, but belies it by yawning. He's watching something, or playing a game, and the noise is an electronic accompaniment to Johnny getting ready for bed. 

The keys are indeed in his coat pocket. He hangs them up on their peg and sorts his mail while he's there. 

Strictly speaking, all this doesn't belong to his usual nightly routine. It's an excuse. While his body is sated from coming his brains out in the shower, he's all too aware of the shape of Mark in his bed. The vulnerable, soft undersides of his feet; his bony ankles; his long legs and his plush thighs. His still unmarked neck. The way Johnny's going to lie next to him all night. 

He's not dragging his feet because he's nervous, though. It's some other sort of anticipation. A torturous impulse to deny himself and then get everything he wants at once as a reward. His hand on Mark's thigh. Mark's body curled up against his own. 

God, he thinks. He's edging himself with the idea of sharing a bed. It's almost funny. 

"Do we have any big plans for tomorrow?" Mark asks, and for all his logic about time zones, he's slipped into that sleepy, gravelly voice Johnny knows too well. 

He hides his smile as he finds his phone on the wireless charger. "Just dinner with Jaehyun and Ten, whatever touristy shit we feel up to otherwise. I was thinking of taking you to my favorite coffee place." 

Johnny hears Mark make a little noise of acknowledgement and then start what has to be another video. The domesticity of the situation is so damn familiar; Wendy slept over on one or two occasions and stayed up doing Sudoku and other puzzles on her phone, Johnny peering over at the screen and offering bad advice. This is another version of that, Mark unwinding with whatever mundane thing relaxes him. The warmth in Johnny's chest at that familiarity, that honestly goddamn endearing thing, has him giving in to inevitability and turning off all the lights but the one by his bedside. He wants Mark close. He wants to fall asleep next to him and see what tomorrow brings. 

Johnny likes to check his stocks and go over his calendar to wind down, so that's what he starts doing when he slides into bed. Mark scoots closer to him once Johnny's settled, fitting a little sideways under Johnny's arm and resting his head on Johnny's chest as he's still preoccupied with his video. 

"This okay?" he asks after a moment. 

Johnny rubs over his elbow reassuringly, then dips down to toy with the leg of Mark's boxers. "Yeah, baby, you're good." 

"I'll probably roll away from you as I start to fall asleep." 

"I know, you said you don't like to be touched while you're asleep." For now, Johnny can indulge himself. Mark's a comfortable temperature against him, not running too warm. 

He moves another fifty bucks into one of his existing stocks and wonders if he'll ever feel like he knows what he's doing. Ten's dad works in finance and passes advice along to both of them, or Johnny might never have started actually making money. For now, it feels like it's something he's doing for future Johnny, who might have a better idea of what he's doing and what he wants. He's already bought a hideously expensive gaming PC with the dividends, and paid for six months with a personal trainer. Who knows what else he'll find to spend his money on in the next few years? 

"Eh, it's more that it'll wake me up." Johnny can see the side of his cheek push out in a smile. "You can do that too, if you want," Mark says, voice a shade too casual. "Wake me up." 

"With your dick in my mouth?" Johnny asks, scritching his blunt fingernails over Mark's thigh. He's even soft here, hair not so coarse and fairly sparse. His ass was basically hairless too. 

Somehow, without literally even trying and at one point actively trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, Johnny's scooped up a fucking textbook twink and the cutest little dweeb he's ever met. It's enough to make him chuff a laugh. 

Mark watches another video. Johnny plays with his hair, until Mark gives a sleepy murmur and turns off his screen. His eyes are closed, but he's still in his glasses, and he's still tucked up close to Johnny. Johnny closes all his apps running in the background and opens up his text convo with Jaehyun to send a threatening reminder to attend dinner tomorrow with Mark. 

**Jaehyun:** I already said I'd come stop being dramatic  
**Johnny:** I'm just saying, you miss this dinner you're dead to me  
**Johnny:** RIP Jung Jaehyun  
**Jaehyun:** I would never miss the opportunity to meet your real and not imaginary Canadian Boyfriend  
**Jaehyun:** How is he btw  
**Johnny:** Fuuuuuuck  
**Johnny:** Ridiculously cute? A baby fawn lost in the woods? Funny as hell? Good kisser? IDK pick one 

"Aww, man," Mark says, worrying at the side of this thumbnail for a moment before shoving his arm down, like it's an old habit he's forcing himself to break. 

"What is it? You forget something?" Johnny laughs under his breath at Jaehyun's rare use of an emoji to express his happiness over Johnny's love life, which he's had a front seat to over the last tumultuous year. 

"No, I'm just realizing that I gave myself an enema and I didn't need to." The words, and how Mark sounds so put out about it, have Johnny freeze in the middle of drafting his next text. "And I'm gonna have to do it again. Fuck." His hand halfheartedly smacks the mattress. 

"I'm… sorry?" 

"It's fine, tonight was... It was so good, man, being here with you is a fucking dream." He sighs heavily, moves off Johnny's chest to the pillow, and slides his phone under it. He's staring up at the ceiling, and Johnny is studying his profile, phone forgotten in his hand. Mark's still wearing his glasses. He turns his head on the pillow and meets Johnny's gaze. "You better tell me if you're planning on it tomorrow." 

"Uh," Johnny says. 

"No, I'm serious," Mark insists. He takes off his glasses and hands them to Johnny to put on the side table, which he does for lack of anything else to say or do. Incredulity and amusement are building, along with a tenacious ember of arousal ready to flame if Mark keeps talking about them fucking and giving him those no-nonsense eyes, that petulant mouth. "You need to make a dick appointment if I'm going to do that again." 

Johnny tries not to laugh, he really does, but it comes out of him in a burst anyway. "You are—the weirdest person I've ever met, holy fuck," he says, shoulders shaking. Mark's mouth is twisting in a begrudging smile. "Yeah, pencil me in for anal tomorrow night, I guess." 

Mark pretends to reach for his phone, laughing outright now, and quiets into giggles he barely voices as he settles back down against the pillow. They're on their sides facing each other, and the laughter drops off into sleepy, dazed expressions, at least on Mark's part. Johnny doesn't want to know what his face is doing. 

"Get some sleep," he says, and crosses the tiny gulf between them to kiss Mark's soft, minty mouth, then his cheek. 

"'Kay," Mark says, blinking until his eyes can't stay open any longer, and he rolls onto his back and then his other side, facing away from Johnny. 

Just the sight of the back of his neck, the graceful slope of his shoulder in his sleep shirt, is enough to flood Johnny with syrupy endorphins. He's… content, happy, hopeful, ready for tomorrow. It's like he's been holding his breath and now he's breathing free. 

"I'm so happy I met you," Johnny breathes, not even a whisper. Mark doesn't stir, almost all the way asleep if Johnny's gauge is good. "I'm so fucking glad, Mark." 

\--- FIN 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed! Please come bother me on twitter, I'm [@sneakethsnek](https://twitter.com/sneakethsnek).
> 
> Playlist:
> 
> Lights - Muscle Memory  
> Baekhyun - Stay Up  
> The Weeknd - Blinding Lights  
> Carly Rae Jepsen - Want You In My Room  
> Jimmy Brown - Stay


End file.
